Reason to Believe
by Honour Huston
Summary: Evey contemplates the depth of V's obsession when she sees something disturbing on the television. Set after her release, but before the 5th. Please Review!


A damp mist rose from the wet grey pavement. Weary feet shuffled along aimlessly, seemingly on automatic pilot returning home from another mind numbing day at a job that stole a little more of your soul with each passing day. The rain had started just before the evening rush, large plops hit the sidewalks and in rapid succession, umbrellas popped open as the heavens opened above them. One umbrella, however, was held a bit higher than the others. The stride of the person beneath it was not as downtrodden as those who surrounded her. Evey Hammond walked along the sidewalk, staring straight ahead concentrating on each step forward. She glanced at those passing by her, her brown eyes filled with sympathy for the poor souls who were trapped by their fear; just as she had been until Codename V had taken it into his own hands to free her. V. The wounds on her body were healing but the emotional scars were still as raw as they had been when they had been inflicted upon her.

Lost inside her thoughts, she walked passed an electronics shoppe, and in the window, the telly advertised a new sports drink. The announcer was lively and charming, making her think of another television star. Evey suddenly felt another twinge: Gordon. Sweet irreverent Gordon who had sealed his fate with that fateful broadcast just before the raid. Knowing the censors, she was certain that Gordon's programme, even reruns, would ever be shown on the BTN again. She stopped for a moment, and smiled sadly, thinking of her friend. The rain continued, and she made sure that her umbrella was covering her still-shorn head. Any kind of water on her bare head still made her panic, remembering the 'showers' in the fake detention centre that V had constructed. Even her daily shower was difficult, it took almost a quarter hour of calming breaths before she could venture under the harsh spray. Suddenly the news broke across the screen, red and yellow flashes made Evey take notice as the reporter shifted in her chair. The woman on the screen shuffled her papers and blinked several times in a row.

Evey smirked, knowing that whatever report she was going to announce was going to be utter rubbish. "We interrupt this programme to issue this special report. Several sources in the Department of Defense have announced that they have reason to believe that the terrorist Codename V was responsible for the St. Mary's pandemic several years ago." Blink. Blink. Evey's heart stopped as her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropped to her feet while her whole body went hot then cold all over. Images of her brother hooked up to those horrible terrifying machines in that cold sterile hospital room. Herself as a child huddled against the glass of the special ward as those machines screamed in alarm when her brother's heart stopped beating. Her mother hunched over, weeping in a plastic chair; her father, his hand covering his eyes, trying to suppress his own tears. These memories flashed before her eyes as the rain fell around her. V. Why was everything connected to V? She took several breaths, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat and get her breathing under control. She had to keep reminding herself about the newscaster's nervous tick when it came to questionable broadcasts.

As she watched the newscaster blink and blather on, Evey contemplated what she really knew about Codename V. He was intelligent, had a vast knowledge of many subjects. She reaffirmed that V would have been someone her father would have liked immensely. She could imagine them sitting in the Shadow Gallery cheerfully arguing over Shakespeare or Keats or Byron. She remembered his obvious embarrassment over her witnessing him caught up in the moment like that and she thought that had been sweet. He loved old adventure movies; she could still see him fighting that suit of armor, his "fat metal friend". It made her ache a bit to think that a suit of armor was his only companion. That someone as intelligent and skilled at conversation as V must have been keen to have someone to talk to. She wished that her father were alive, for she was a rather poor substitute when it came to intellectual conversation. She was sure her father would have had many more things to discuss with V than she ever could.

After that first morning after her initial outburst at being held in the Gallery against her will, when he made her an 'eggy in the basket', he had been careful not to let her see his hands. She knew he was self-conscious about his condition and she never again saw him without his gloves. Other than that nonchalant remark about a fire many years ago, V never divulged any more information. Despite an incredible urge to inquire about his injuries, she never got up the courage to ask, and he was certainly not offering. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him, no one, no matter what he might have done, should have to endure what must have been excruciating pain that had caused those scars.

He must have reserves of strength that normal men could ever imagine. That was something to be admired in any other man. But the depth of his rage and the lengths at which he would go for revenge bordered on madness. She knew that his vendetta had to do with what was done to him years ago and Norsefire was part of it somehow; his scars were a daily reminder of what he had lost. Perhaps he was mad, as her first impression had indicated.

V had been cruel and manipulative. Tricking her into thinking that she had been captured and tortured until her breaking point. Stinging her flesh and burning her soul. Breaking her down and building her up again until her fear was stripped from her. He claimed that he did it for her, to make her ready for his new world and to erase the fear that had held her back her for so long. She was grateful, in a way. Her fear disabled her, and now, after what she had endured, she knew she could face anything that V or Norsefire could throw at her. Just because she understood that didn't mean that she was ready or able to forgive him just yet. She had promised to see him again before the 5th. She would go see him. However, she was not sure what she would do or say when she saw him again.

V had his own motives behind what he did to her and to those he killed. Moreover, that he would never, ever, even in his most diabolical plot, harm a child. He was not that twisted or depraved, she hoped that he wasn't. Yet Norsefire was. Evey's brow furrowed. She knew that the anchorwoman blinked like crazy when she knows a story was utter bollocks. She had reason to believe as well. V's revolution was coming and she would be ready for what would come. Standing a bit straighter, Evey adjusted her umbrella and began the trip home. Reason to believe. That was what he gave her and it was all that she needed.


End file.
